Властелин колец: Возвращение короля
The Field of Cormallen
Itfelluponhisearsliketheechoofallthejoyshehadeverknown.Buthehimselfburstintotears.Then,asasweetrainwillpassdownawindofspringandthesunwillshineouttheclearer,histearsceased,andhislaughterwelledup,andlaughinghesprangfromhisbed.
"HowdoIfeel?"hecried."Well,Idon’tknowhowtosayit.Ifeel,Ifeel"–hewavedhisarmsintheair–"Ifeellikespringafterwinter,andsunontheleaves;andliketrumpetsandharpsandallthesongsIhaveeverheard!"Hestoppedandheturnedtowardshismaster."Buthow’sMr.Frodo?"hesaid."Isn’titashameabouthispoorhand?ButIhopehe’sallrightotherwise.He’shadacrueltime."
"Yes,Iamallrightotherwise,"saidFrodo,sittingupandlaughinginhisturn.Ifellasleepagainwaitingforyou,Sam,yousleepyhead.Iwasawakeearlythismorning,andnowitmustbenearlynoon."
"Noon?"saidSam,tryingtocalculate."Noonofwhatday?"
"ThefourteenthoftheNewYear,"saidGandalf,"orifyoulike,theeighthdayofAprilintheShirereckoning2.ButinGondortheNewYearwillalwaysnowbeginuponthetwenty-fifthofMarchwhenSauronfell,andwhenyouwerebroughtoutofthefiretotheKing.Hehastendedyou,andnowheawaitsyou.Youshalleatanddrinkwithhim.WhenyouarereadyIwillleadyoutohim."
"TheKing?"saidSam.
